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Nearly 50 years ago, my home church in San Diego welcomed the first of two Vietnamese families fleeing their war-torn country. They were in urgent need of housing, and my single mother — her nest newly empty — raised her hand without hesitation. Less than two weeks later, she and our church embraced the Phong family. Neither spoke the other’s language, but compassion and care transcended words. What began as an act of hospitality became a lifelong bond — one my 96-year-old mother still treasures today.
That experience shaped me profoundly. Hearing the horrors of the Phongs' homeland being overtaken by Communists and witnessing the blessing of a nation that opened its arms changed me. The teachings of my home church — “I was a stranger and you welcomed me” (Matthew 25:35) — were not just words; they were a way of life.
Now, that welcoming spirit is under attack. President Donald Trump’s plan to revoke the citizenship of Ukrainians who sought refuge in our country is both heartless and a betrayal of our word. In 1994, Ukraine gave up its nuclear arsenal under the Budapest Memorandum, receiving assurances from the U.S., the U.K. and Russia to respect its sovereignty. Russia’s 2022 invasion shattered that promise, displacing millions. Ukrainians who found safety here did so believing America keeps its commitments. Now, the revocation of humanitarian parole and Temporary Protected Status threatens their legal standing, forcing them into uncertainty and contradicting our national values. This is not strength — it is fear-driven cruelty.
We must resist this. We must demand leadership that sees the humanity in those seeking safety, just as my mother did all those years ago. “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers” (Hebrews 13:2). We were created for something greater. It’s time we started acting like it.
Timothy Johnson, Delano, Minn.
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